The Weight of These Wings
by redladylove123
Summary: AU version of season 1 events. Wade made Harley Wilkes a promise and he intends to keep it. Even if it- or rather SHE- drives him crazy.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first Hart of Dixie fan fic, hope I can do the characters justice. This is a little AU version of how I imagine it could have gone if Wade had known more about Zoe before she arrived in town than we saw in the show. Also in this version Zoe comes to Bluebell already knowing Harley is her father, and maybe Harley had a little more to his plan to get her to Bluebell than we thought. Like perhaps some matchmaking….**

"Well doc, I guess she's agreed to come to Bluebell after all," Wade sank onto the decorative cement bench in front of the old man's grave. He tried to get out here to the cemetery once a week or so to leave flowers for his mom and make sure no weeds were creeping up around her stone, and leave the letters Earl wrote her because he was too stubborn to come out here himself. Last couple months he'd always stopped by Doc Wilkes' grave on the way out as well to say a few words.

It had taken all of them in town by surprise, just how fast Harley got sick. A stark reminder that absolutely no one was invincible, even the town hero.

Wade's mind went back to the last conversation he'd had with Harley.

 _"I do appreciate you taking time out of your busy day to take care of those hedges, Wade," Harley Wilkes said as he sat in his rocking chair on the back porch. A pitcher of sweet tea and two glasses of ice sat on the patio table nearby, brought out a few minutes ago by Emma, who was Harley and Dr. Breeland's nurse at the office and also stopped in a couple times a week lately to look in after him since he'd officially retired a couple months ago._

 _"No problem Doc, glad to help," Wade said as he leaned the ancient trimmer against the side of the house and climbed the porch steps to drop into the wicker chair across from Harley. He watched as Harley lifted the pitcher of tea, but the old man's hands shook, and it took him a couple tries to make the glass without spilling it._

 _A pang of sadness hit Wade as he watched. The old man was sick. They all knew it, but nobody said it outloud or asked questions. He was getting thinner and thinner all the time. They all just tried to pitch in where they could, taking care of the lawn, the house, his old dog Jake, making sure someone from the Dixie Stop delivered groceries a couple times a week._

 _Harley Wilkes has been Bluebell's doctor since before Wade was born, since long before Brick Breeland bought into his practice. Every broken bone, stitches, shot he'd ever got as a kid had come from Doc Wilkes. When his mom died, it was Harley who lead the town effort to made sure Earl's boys stayed in one piece, even if sometimes he had to literally stitch them back together._

 _The memory stood out in Wade' s mind of himself at 12 years old, running through the woods barefoot terrified, pounding on Harley's backdoor because his dad was passed out in the chair again but it was different this time. He couldn't hear Earl's raspy breathing. Jesse was leaving for the army in a few months. His mom had lost her life to cancer a couple years ago. Without Earl he'd have no one, even if the old man was more than a little bit of a crazy drunk. Harley had saved his dad's life more than once._

 _Harley cleared his throat. "You know I'm sick, Wade. I'm not going to make it much longer."_

 _Wade tried to brush it off. "Are you kidding me? You'll probably outlast all of us, except maybe Crazy Earl."_

 _Harley's wizened old eyes looked sad. "I was just hoping….well, I was hoping I'd be able to convince her to come here….."_

 _"Her?"_

 _"My daughter," Harley said quietly._

 _Wade gave Harley a sideways glance. Jeez, maybe the poor old man really was starting to lose it. As far as he knew, Doc Wilkes had never married or had children. He'd given his whole life taking care of the people of this town._

 _"Uh…you have a daughter?"_

 _"Yes indeed. She lives in New York City last I knew. I think you'd like her, Wade. She's not much younger than you. A doctor, even. And such a pretty thing."_

 _Wade laughed outloud, amused. "A New Yorker, huh? In Bluebell? I can just imagine. Fancy coffee and expensive shoes….Probably wouldn't last a day."_

 _"Oh no," Harley smiled. "She's feisty, this one. Tough. Good stock. Maybe some day I'll get her to come here after all. When that happens, will you do something for me?"_

 _"What's that?"_

 _"Tell her I was proud of her. "_

Not even a week later, Harley Wilkes had died in his sleep, and the town of Bluebell had mourned his passing deeply. Funny how in a small town the loss of just one person could feel like such a gaping hole. But life went on, quietly and slowly. Brick took over the medical practice. Rumors abound that Harley had left the other half to someone, but nobody knew who it was except for town lawyer George Tucker, who refused to spill the beans, and Emma, who continued to send the mysterious Zoe Hart the postcards Harley had written out before he died. And Wade. Nobody had confirmed it to him personally but he knew.

And finally, finally a couple months later word had come through.

Harley Wilke's daughter was coming to Bluebell.

"Guess Lavon's got it set up for her to live in the carriage house," Wade said aloud. "She's supposed to be here next couple days. Probably gonna drive me crazy from the sound of it."

Among the sound of birds chirping in the misty mid-morning air and the wind rustling among the trees, he could almost hear the old man's deep laughter, feel that hand on his shoulder. _You're a good man, Wade. Some day I hope you learn to believe that. Your mama would be proud of you."_

He didn't know what to think of that. He hadn't done much to deserve anyone's praise. He was a playboy and a hell-raiser who worked as a bartender for a living, and he'd resigned himself to the fact that it was how people saw him and always would.

With a sigh Wade got to his feet. "Well anyway, I promised you I'd look out for her, and I'll do my best," he brushed his knuckles across the top of the stone. He owed the old man that much.

A gust of warm wind blew up, and he got an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. Anticipation, maybe. Funny how you could wake up one morning and think it was just another day and by the time the sun set that night everything was different.

##########################

Nobody knew exactly when Zoe Hart was coming, and to be honest, well, the thing about small towns is not only that everyone knows each other, but they know each other's business. And from the second Harley's daughter dragged her suitcases off the bus, everyone knew it.

"Well," Wade said as he stood in Lavon's kitchen, hands braced against the counter. "You met her. What's she like?"

Lavon seemed to contemplate his answer. "Cute. Got a mouth on her, alright," he shook his head and smiled. "She's…going to require an adjustment period," As the mayor of this town, he heard and saw all. And he'd heard and see enough already.

The doctor had arrived yesterday, took one stroll through town, insulted half the people in it, showed up at the plantation and demanded her room, then disappeared into the carriage house. She hadn't been seen since, but tongues in town were wagging and the comments on the Bluebell Blawker were practically overloading the town's gossip website.

Wade read the blog post on the ipad over Lavon's shoulder. "She told Lemon Breeland she looked like a stick of butter?" He slapped his knee and laughed. "Well that's like sticking your hand in a tiger cage and expecting to pull it back out with all your fingers. And what's with all these comments about her shorts? I'm gonna have to see this in person. Must not have much in the way of manners, she gets here and going into hiding right away or what? Seems kinda rude to me. Might have to teach her a lesson or two."

Lavon raised his eyebrows. "Don't even think about it, Wade."

Zoe Hart seemed nice enough, if a little…out of place. She had determination, Lavon Hayes could see that. Trouble was, were the rest of the people in the town going to be able to see it. Harley Wilkes' legacy was a lot to live up to.

Wade gave him an innocent look. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I told Harley I'd look after her. Gotta keep my promise, don't I?"

"Oh, I'm sure you will. Be nice. And keep your hands off."

Wade smirked and grabbed a peach out of the fruit basket. "I'll try, but you know me Lavon. I'm a hands-on kinda guy." He walked towards the door whistling a little tune.

"I know," Lavon yelled behind him. "That's what I'm afraid of."

#####################################

Zoey told herself she was NOT hiding, even though her first day in Bluebell had been a bonafide disaster. Good grief, the place was like something out of a bad southern movie from 1985. But she was determined to make this work. Harley had obviously wanted her here for a reason, and maybe she could make a difference somehow. Maybe she could even bring them into the 21st century. Tomorrow she'd go over to Harley's practice and ask for his patient files and dive right in, Brick Breeland be damned.

"I can do this,"she said out loud to the dusty walls, even though nobody was listening. I mean, she was a surgeon for god's sake. She had handled traumatic situations every day for the last four years. She _saved lives._ She could surely make friends with a bunch of yoo-hoos in a backwards corner of Alabama to treat their bumps and bruises for the next 12 months.

Tonight, though, she would settle for putting her good Kate Spade sheets on the bed, trying to find a damn wifi signal, and reluctantly calling her mother and reassuring her that no she was not having a nervous breakdown.

Although, in her own defense, she didn't know what the hell the woman was expecting to happen when a person found out their father was not their father at all.

The news had stunned her.

" _You can't go there," Candice Hart demanded as she watched Zoe pack her suitcase in her Manhattan apartment . "Bluebell, Alabama? Are you insane? I know you got dumped and all, but this is ridiculous. This is New York City, there's plenty of other eligible men."_

 _"It has nothing to do with needing a man! I need to find a GP fellowship, Mom, and there's not one open within 400 miles of here," Zoe said impatiently, throwing her favorite Christian Louboutin heels on top of the pile. "Harley seems like he really needs my help."_

 _"You don't even know him."_

 _"I know," she said lightly. "Apparently my speech much have had a bigger effect on him than I thought."_

 _And with that, her stuffy high society mother gave it all up. Maybe she thought it would change her mind. Maybe she was just tired of dealing with the secret she'd been keeping for the last 30 years._

 _"Oh, get over yourself. Harley Wilkes wasn't some random old man who showed up at your graduation to listen to your speech." Candice said flatly. "He was your father. And he's dead. And I have been informed that he died four months ago. Are you happy now?" She turned and stalked out of the apartment._

And with that, what was left of Zoe's carefully crafted existence pretty much crumbled.

She'd lost the guy who she thought was the love of her life. She'd lost the fellowship that was supposed to be the next step in her career. She'd lost the man she had grown up thinking was her father and her hero, because now that it was out in the open, Ethan Hart was no longer "required" to have anything to do with her.

Bluebell right now, apparently, was her best option for the next year. So here she was.

Living in the purgatory of southern Alabama.

With a sigh, she tucked herself into bed and settled in for the night with a notepad in her hand, making a list of everything that needed to be done…and everything she needed to order from back home for this old shack if she planned to stay.

 _First order of business….best espresso machine on the market._

Her mind strayed though, and absently she looked down to realize she'd written.

 _2nd order of business...make my father proud of me._

The lights overhead flickered, and through the open window she heard the obnoxious sounds of electric guitars floating across the pond.

"Ugh, seriously?" She complained at the ceiling. Lavon had told her that the electricity system at the plantation was pretty old, and he'd be doing an upgrade in a couple months between her house and the gatehouse. Until then she apparently had to be careful not to overload it with whoever the guy was who lived over there.

Which evidently did not concern whoever was over there making all that racket.

And with that, the lights in the carriage house went completely dark.

Grumbling, Zoe threw a sweater on over her pajamas top and stumbled outside in her newly purchased knee high rubber boots to walk around the pond and bang on the door of the gatehouse. When nobody answered she just walked right in.

The offending racket-maker was having himself a party, alright, banging on a guitar from a video game while two girls who barely looked old enough to drink danced around behind him. There were empty beer bottles and pizza boxes everywhere.

 _Gross_ , she thought, wrinkling her nose.

"Hey," Zoe yelled. "You overheated the generator. My power's out."

Wade paused mid AC/DC guitar riff and the fake crowd on the tv booed, signaling he was out. He barely noticed.

Well. Now he got why the hell Zoe Hart's shorts had gotten a 47% disapproval rate on Dash Dewitt's latest town poll.

Too bad. He didn't disapprove of them much at all.

 _Oh, this is going to be fun_ , he thought, amused and intrigued at the same time. Of course it just so happened he'd plugged every appliance in his house in tonight, even turned on the window air conditioner and the bug zapper just for good measure so that soon as she plugged anything in over _there_ , something was gonna blow.

And she'd have to come out of hiding.

"You must be the doctor's daughter," he threw her an easy smile and held out his free hand. "I'm Wade. Wanna join the party?"

He didn't know what he'd exactly been expecting, but this little spitfire was a pleasant surprise.

And the sparks flying out of the fuse box were nothing compared to the gold daggers she was shooting him with her dark brown eyes.

Zoe didn't miss one bit of the way he looked her up and down like she was a cheap waitress at the nearest bar and grill. He would have been cute in a backwoods way, she thought, studying him, if he got a haircut and put on a clean shirt, maybe. But she wasn't that desperate. Yet.

Instead of holding out her hand and returning the gesture, she kept her arms firmly across her chest. "No thanks. I'd like to keep my dignity. Save your cute little pickup lines for the girls at the church social."

Wade took a step back. Lavon was right, this one had a mouth on her. He liked a girl with sass. she wasn't going to make this easy. Well two could play at that game.

He raised his eyebrows. "First lesson in southern hospitality sweetheart. Rudeness doesn't get you anywhere."

"I'm a New Yorker," she said, her chin high in the air. "We're a tough bunch. Now are you gonna fix my fuse box or not."

"Sure," Wade turned away from her and went back to the tv and the two ditzy looking girls again. He couldn't remember their names. Laura and Leah, maybe? Not that it really mattered. It never did. "In the morning."

Zoe gaped at him. "How about right now?"

"Kinda busy at the moment. If you're scared feel free to spend the night, though."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and turned around and stalked out, boots clomping.

Watching her leave might have been his favorite part, in more ways than one.

He had a suspicion Bluebell, Alabama was about to get ravaged by the biggest hurricane since Katrina had almost leveled the place in 2005. And he got that feeling in his gut again, the one that meant everything was about to change. Resolutely he pushed it away and went back to the video game as one of the "L" girls draped herself around him from behind.

#########################################

Zoe made it three days before she hit what she considered rock bottom. Almost eaten by an alligator, almost gotten two people killed, pissed off her "partner" in the other half of her dead father's practice, pissed off the Belles women, whatever the hell a Belle was. Some stupid poll on the town gossip website was declaring that "87% of the citizens of Bluebell think Zoe Hart needs to go back to New York." Yeah she was doing a crackerjack job of fitting in.

She couldn't hide in the carriage house another night. And everyone in town was treating her like a pariah. So she settled for the next least worst thing. She started walking. It was pretty out here, she had to admit. A big change from the constant traffic, the horns honking, people yelling at all hours of the night. Quiet. You could see the stars. This part, maybe, she could get used to. If everyone in town stopped hating her guts.

God, she didn't even know when the last time she'd been able to look up and see the stars was. Or maybe she'd never just paid attention.

"I'm not doing such a good job here, Harley," she said out loud as she stumbled along the back road to the plantation with a box of wine in her hand from the Dixie Stop. "Can you send me a sign or something? Preferably not in the form of a very large alligator." Her eyes darted to both sides of the road. Or any other crawly four-legged creature. With a sigh, she sat down right on the side of the road, kicked her high heels off her sore feet, and cracked open the box of wine, draining it into a paper coffee cup.

Not even a minute later, headlights shown over the hill behind her when she looked over her shoulder.

And Wade Kinsella pulled his dusty, faded red and white camaro to a stop next to her.

Zoe raised her eyes to address the night sky. "Hey Harley, this was not what I had in mind!"

"Look at you girl," Wade said with a lazy grin, shaking his head. "Drunk as a boiled owl. Everyone knows old man Jackson memorized the eyechart years ago."

"Not everyone," she informed him, trying to shove the paper cup under the wine spout again and missing.

"I'd offer to give you a ride," he said casually. "But I wouldn't want you getting any ideas."

She glared at him. "I'll be just fine."

"Watch out for Burt-."

"Reynolds," she finished. "I know. We've met, so don't try to scare me. I've taken the subway after midnight. I think I can handle walking home by myself."

He gave her a smirk. "You know you'd be cute if you weren't so salty. Lighten up a bit."

"You know you'd be cute if you weren't such a jerk," she mimicked him.

Not even phased, he put the car into park. "Cmon. I'll give you a ride back to the plantation."

"No thanks!" Zoe said again, more vehemently, rising wobbly to her feet, swinging the box of wine next to her.

"There's a hell of a lot more things in these woods than Burt Reynolds" he said impatiently. "Just get in the car."

When Zoe ignored him and kept walking, stumbling along in her ridiculous heels, he swore under his breath and got out of the car. It didn't take much to catch up with her.

"What are you doing?" She took a step back and tripped and almost fell.

"Just making good on a promise," he said, scooping her up and slinging her over his shoulder. She was a tiny thing, and she shrieked bloody murder and beat on his back with her fists, not phasing him a bit and making him laugh loudly as he dumped her into the front seat of the car, and went around to the driver's side, tossing the mostly empty box of wine in the backseat.

Zoe righted herself haphazardly and blew the hair out of her eyes. "Who do you think you are anyway?" she spouted off. "God's redneck gift to women?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he said calmly. "People in this town don't take much to someone coming around thinking they're better than everyone else. You want to win em over, better get that stick out of your cute little ass first."

Zoe leaned in way too close to him, til their eyes were almost level across the middle console. "I knew you were looking at my ass," she said, satisfied.

"Don't flatter yourself, doc," he said, amused.

He didn't know how it happened. Well he did, but he'd deny it later. One moment she was leaning over to say something else sassy, and the next moment his tongue was in her mouth. He just wanted to shut her up, really. He expected to get punched. Or kicked in the junk, which could be dangerous considering those heels she was wearing.

What he did NOT expect was for her to climb on his lap and go to town. And holy mother of god did she go to town. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was Zoe Hart had a fire in those little shorts of hers she needed put out, but before he knew it they had a good start at ripping each other's clothes off and she was reminding him loud and clear how long it had been since he'd found any girl within 50 miles that rated more than a B+ in the sack.

She tasted like red wine and strawberry lip gloss, and the expensive perfume she wore lingered around them in a cloud that went right to his head a little more than he would have liked.

 _This is it,_ Zoe thought hazily as his hands slid up the back of her shorts and squeezed her ass and hers yanked up his tshirt and aimed for his belt next, all while their mouths practically ate each other alive. _Rock bottom._ She was making out with the electricity stealing jackhole from next door. Her mother would be so proud.

And this _wasn't_ her, really. She wasn't a one night stand kind of girl. But he just made her so _mad._ A crazy kind of mad she wasn't sure she'd ever realized existed.

And then it happened.

Her butt hit the car horn and it played some ridiculous song. Dixie. It played Dixie.

Good god. Now, _this_ was rock bottom.

Zoe yanked back from him abruptly and fell into the passenger seat, her shorts unbuttoned and her sweater up around her boobs, bra straps falling down.

"This never happened, you got that?" She said breathlessly.

"My lips are sealed, doc."

She buried her face in her hands.

"Thanks," she muttered. "Thanks for making a horrible day worse," she stumbled for the door handle.

Wade felt like a grade A jackass. His smirk faded, and he reached over her hand and stopped her. "I'll give you a ride home."

"Don't bother."

"I mean it. I don't need to be getting blamed for you to wander off in the woods somewhere and never come back. Although, most of the town would be okay with that right now," he added for good measure. "Especially Brick. And Lemon. You know. The stick of butter."

She scowled.

"Only if we don't talk."

"Deal."

He stared straight ahead and kept his eyes calmly on the road, pretending not to notice when she took a quick swipe at her eyes a couple times. It wasn't like he _cared_ or anything. She'd just gotten under his skin a little bit.

"You know…" her voice trailed off.

He shook his head. "You just can't shut up, can you?"

Zoe bit her bottom lip. "Ohhhh you haven't met my mother or it would make perfect sense," her words came out in a slur. "Did you know him? Harley?"

"Course. Everyone did. He was a great man."

Zoe got real quiet again, considering his words, but she didn't ask anything else. By the time they got back to the plantation, she was passed out cold in the passenger seat. With a sigh, Wade parked the car in front of the carriage house and carried her inside, yanked back her fancy quilts and laid her down on her bed. Then he covered her with a blanket, and reached over to smooth her hair back from her face.

She never even stirred.

Wandering around the room for a bit, Wade picked up various items that she'd started unpacking. Shoes, there were shoes and clothes everywhere. There was a picture of Harley in his younger years on the bureau next to a fair-haired woman. Another picture of Zoe with some guy who looked 100% New York yuppie. _So thats her type, huh? Typical._ He thought with a little bit of scorn. A notebook was laid open on the table next to the bed.

It was hard not to see the first couple lines on that page.

 _Buy an espresso machine._

He rolled his eyes. City folks and their damn fancy coffee.

 _Make my father proud of me._

Something in his middle was turning around again, and he pushed the feeling away resolutely.

With a sigh, he dimmed the light switch and took one last look at Zoe Hart sprawled out on the bed, completely dead to the world. It struck him how much more young and vulnerable she looked when she was asleep. Even without the wine, he figured she had to be exhausted. It had been a hell of a couple days. But she was still here, and some part of him had to give her credit for that. Hell no, she didn't belong here. But most people would have already given up the fight.

The promise he'd made to Harley came back to him, and he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. This was going to be a hell of a lot more difficult than he'd ever imagined.

"Sweet dreams, Zoe Hart."

Quietly Wade slipped out of the carriage house and back into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

"Here, kitty kitty," Zoe offered the cat treats in her hand as she carefully moved across the tree branch.

Well this had been a great idea. Shula Whittaker had come into her office not for a medical emergency, but in a panic because Hank was stuck in a tree.

Of course she'd followed thinking Hank was a small child or another version of Crazy Earl, and instead found the beady eyes of a huge fluffy black cat staring back at her down from his perch in a tree.

"Shula," she had said hesitantly. "I think this is sort of out of my line of work. Isn't there a fire department for this?"

But Shula looked so upset that Zoe had kicked off her heels, stuck a few cat treats in her pocket, and climbed the damn oak tree behind the library.

Anything to get people in this town to like her, right?

"Hey, Hank," she tried talking to him. "Hey kitty." Although, the more she thought about it, she realized there was no way she could climb down the tree with the cat in her hands.

And then, she made the mistake of looking down.

"Boy, we're really far up here, aren't we Hank," she said with a false laugh. "Really. Really. Far up here."

She shifted on the branch and it gave a little crack under her.

"ohmygod." Zoe swore under her breathe, and clung to the tree trunk.

"Ms. Zoe!" Shula called worriedly. "Are you okay?"

She bit her lip. "Um. I don't think I can get down, Shula. Can you find someone with a ladder?"

The black devil cat gave her a look of disdain, jumped right over her, and climbed down the tree, to Zoe's eyerolling displeasure.

By now Shula wasn't the only one watching the scene. Tom Long had come running out of the library.

"Zoe! Don't move, I'll get the mayor."

Slowly half the town trickled in until she felt like she was on display at the county fair.

"She's going to jump!" she heard someone say.

"I wouldn't blame her," someone else said. "If the whole town hated me that much."

Zoe rolled her eyes. "Newsflash. Sound carries!"

And finally, Tom came back carrying one end of a long extension ladder.

Unfortunately Wade Kinsella was carrying the other end.

Great, she was _never_ going to live this down.

Wade leaned the ladder against the tree, and stood there for a second on the ground, the biggest smirk across her face she'd ever seen in her life.

"What are you waiting for?" Zoe exclaimed. "Get up here and get me down."

"I wouldn't wiggle around too much. That branch is rotten, as anyone can see. And also I can see up your dress," he said, no holds barred.

"Seriously," she complained. "What are you, twelve years old?" She tried to fold her dress around her legs, but the stupid branch cracked a little more, and she cried out and hugged the tree a little tighter.

"Alright, alright." With a sigh, Wade climbed up to her level, and his blonde head appeared, along with that damn grin she wanted to punch right off of him.

"Listen doc, I know it's been a hard week and all, but throwing yourself out of a tree is no way to solve your problems."

"Shut up," she grumbled. "There was a cat."

Wade looked around. "Where?"

"Well it's gone now!"

Of course it was. She looked down and she could see Hank perched safely in Shula's arms.

"Always coming to your rescue," Wade said, he voice calm in her ear as she backed carefully down the ladder in her bare feet with him behind her, his arm safely around her middle. "What would you do without me?"

"I will not dignify that with an answer," Zoe said, smoothing her dress and her hair as she landed safely back on the ground. "Thank you for rescuing me. Now I need to go back to _actual_ patients."

Wade leaned against the tree behind her with his well-toned arm over her head. "Any chance you wanna show me some real gratitude, I'm off work at 11:30."

She pursed her lips, but being that close to him she suddenly found it kind of hard to concentrate. Sheesh, no wonder the girls in town were tripping over their own feet around him. Something about those eyes…..

 _No!_ She scolded herself silently. _No. No. No._ Wade Kinsella was strictly a one-night stand kind of guy, and she was not. It wasn't worth it. "I'd rather climb back up in the tree," she said smoothly, ducking under his arm and trying to regain her dignity.

Wade's laughter rang out as he turned away from her and picked up the ladder to put it back in the truck.

She picked up her shoes and stalked back across the street towards her office, but she could have sworn she still heard him laughing behind her.

###################################

 **Two Days Later…..**

He was halfway through his shift at the Rammer Jammer, and Wade realized he couldn't keep his eyes off the damn door. _And_ his mind off the 101 different possible reasons why Zoe hadn't walked in yet today.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen her all week. She was in Lavon's kitchen most mornings for breakfast and coffee. And everywhere else every time he turned around, like a mosquito buzzing in his ear. The most irritating part is that he was starting to _like_ that buzzing sound. She made things more interesting in these parts than they had been in a long time.

" _Wade! I need a ride!"_

" _Wade! You blew out the fusebox with your stupid amp again!"_

 _"Wade! Get me out of this tree!"_ What had possessed her two days ago to climb up the half-dead oak tree behind the library to try and rescue Shula Whittaker's damn cat, he had no idea, but it sure had made an amusing story for this week's blawker.

"Wade!" Wanda snapped her fingers in front of him, bringing him back to reality. "I need a rum and coke. Are you half asleep tonight or what?"

"Sorry, darlin'," he flashed his best smile in her direction, and grabbed a highball glass.

"What's this?" Wanda eyed up the case of wine that he had yet to put away. Or rather… "hide and relabel" before anyone else saw it _._ She read the words on the side _._ "Pinot Grig-."

"Just a freebie from the distributor," he said hastily, sliding the drink across the bar and then lifting the case up quickly. "Thought we'd try it out. Gotta compete with Fancie's, you know."

Shelly came over to relay a drink order, and she raised her pointy eyebrows and gave him an evil smirk. "Looks like a pretty expensive freebie."

"Awww, " Wanda patted his arm. "You don't have to tell us Wade, we get it. You're so sweet."

"Get what?" There's nothing to get. And I am not _sweet!_ " He called as both of them walked away, grinning like Cheshire cats and probably plotting against him.

He'd rather take a fishing hook in his eye before admit he'd seen the empty bottles in the trash from a certain doctor's favorite brand of wine and paid way too much of his own money to have it shipped express from New York. It's not like he thought it would have her hanging around the Rammer Jammer a little more or anything. Or that he even _cared_. Nothing was going to happen with him and Zoe Hart. Ever again. Except maybe him coming to her rescue the minimal once a day. And that was only because he felt obligated and all.

That's all she was. Just an obligation. She had other things on her mind anyway. Clearly.

It was when they were building the float for the parade that Wade first got it. It wasn't much, just a look in that direction, but he'd seen that same look before on half the women in town.

Zoe had a thing for George Tucker.

He acted like it didn't matter, but that old familiar feeling had rose in the back of his throat as he watched her making googly eyes at the town's golden boy. _Never good enough_.

Never mind that George had been with Lemon Breeland for about 8 bazillion years and they were engaged to get married. That didn't stop anyone else in this town either from thinking George was the greatest thing since color television.

That's why she had stopped their little fling in the car on Miller road.

And that's why girls like her never end up with guys like him.

The chip on his shoulder that had been there since he was 10 years old felt heavier than ever.

As if she could read his thoughts, Zoe appeared in the doorway in a halo of dark hair, designer clothes, and expensive perfume.

Every pair of eyes in the place stopped to look at her. To say she'd turned the town upside down was an underestimate. First, there had been the snake incident. The hunter with tick paralysis. Shula and her cat. And the float. Lord, the float… Founder's Day in Bluebell would never be the same.

"Hey," someone called out. "Aren't you the one who ruined the parade?"

Zoe winced at the memory of how the tractor with the float attached had taken out a fire hydrant, a park bench, and the produce stand in town square. ""Yep, that's me," she said without hesitation. "Bluebell Parade Ruiner Extraordinaire in the flesh. " She sashayed through the room past all the gossiping ears and wagging tongues and landed herself on the nearest bar stool.

"Hey Wade," she flashed him a sassy smile. "Break any poor girl's heart today?"

"Well maybe just one or two," Wade leaned against the edge of the bar on his forearms and flashed her a grin. "Rescue any cats today?"

"Ha. Ha." She said dryly. "When are you going to fess up and admit that you like coming to my rescue?"

He leaned forward so the people a few seats away couldn't overhear.

"When are you going to fess up and tell everyone why you really crashed that float?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Zoe gave him an innocent look. "I'll take that wine now."

"I bet Betty Breeland would know."

Zoe's eyes met his, and her mouth wavered.

"You know, that's exactly the kind of thing that Harley would have done," Wade said quietly. And for once, he wasn't giving her crap, messing around. "Maybe not to such extreme measures, but..."

The expression on Zoe's face told him just how badly she had needed to hear that, and a long look of understanding passed between them.

"It'll blow over, you know. People are coming around, even if they don't want to admit it."

"You think so?" She looked up at him earnestly.

"Yep."

She shook her head slowly. "Harley had this practice for 45 years. I need to find a way to do better."

"He had it for 45 years. You've had it for a week. Give yourself a break," he said, pushing a glass of wine in front of her.

Zoe said nothing for a long time, just watched him while he buzzed around whipping up drinks and putting things away behind the bar, not to mention flirting with every single female in the place. He could be infuriating for sure. And 100% womanizer. But he listened. And right now, well, she'd take every friend in Bluebell she could get.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," she said slowly. "About what you said that night."

"What night?"

"You know, the night in your car…."

"Oh, the night you jumped my bones?" Wade said nonchalantly.

 _Aaaaand he's back to being Wade_ , Zoe thought sardonically. For a second there it had felt like they were having an actual serious conversation. But she could see it now, how he put up walls...

Her eyes widened, and she glanced around to see if anyone had overheard. "First of all, I did _not_ jump your…bones. And you said…."

"Said what? That part about your cute little-."

"Not that part!" Zoe reached over and clamped her hand over his mouth, and he twisted away from her, laughing at the flush that rose in her face.

"Sorry doc, I can't seem to remember."

"You said you were making good on a promise."

"You musta been hearing things," Wade said, avoiding her eyes as he raised his hand and waved. A second later, Lavon dropped onto the empty stool next to Zoe, and the conversation was momentarily forgotten.

"Big Z," he said, giving her a hi-five. "Congratulations. You made it through your first official week in Bluebell. "

"Barely," she sighed, tracing her finger around the rim of her wine glass.

"You're not giving up on us yet, are you?" Lavon elbowed her.

"I'm not going anywhere," Zoe waved it off. "I'll win over them one way or another. Zoe Hart is a fighter. Yeah!" She raised her fist in the air and took a huge gulp of her wine.

Wade was at the other end of the bar tending to a customer, but he saw it, the way she looked at the glass in confusion, and then over at him.

The little smile that crossed her face made it all worth it, and a warm feeling pooled in his stomach as he lifted his beer, and at the other end of the bar, she lifted her glass and did the same.

 _That one's for you, Harley,_ he thought. _I think our girl's gonna be just fine._


	3. Chapter 3

He wasn't gonna do it.

Wade had been telling himself that all day long. In fact, he'd talked himself out of the idea about 7 different times over the course of his shift at the Rammer Jammer. And yet despite that, here he was, with some big ole plan forming in his mind that was going to involve a trip to the all night grocery store in Mobile and definitely not much sleep.

Zoe Hart didn't need any more of his help, she'd made that perfectly clear in those exact words as she stomped out of Lavon's kitchen that morning, in a huff because she had about 23 hours to figure out how to make a pot of gumbo that would beat Brick Breeland's.

 _If George Tucker had offered to help, I bet she wouldn't have said no,_ he thought with no tiny amount of resentment.

"And why the hell do I even care anyway," he said outloud. _I must be losing it,_ he thought as he turned his Camaro down the path towards Earl's cabin, the headlights bouncing off the woods that grew up thick on both sides of the road. _I'm this close to people calling me Crazy Wade._

"Hey, Earl?" he pulled open the rickety door to the cabin. "You up?"

It was almost midnight, so his dad was passed out in his usual spot on the faded couch with a bottle of cheap whiskey next to him.

"Hey," Wade thwacked him on the back of the head and Earl's bloodshot eyes flew open.

Earl struggled to sit up, his hair standing out in all directions, surprised to see Wade any day that wasn't the last one of the month. "Somethin' the matter, son?" In his mind he knew it was wrong to hope for that, but there did come those moments far and in between where Wade would show up all mad, spouting off about something, and Earl couldn't do much for his boy, but he could listen.

"Nope." Wade drawled, rifling through the kitchen drawers. "You remember that box you used to have with all ma's old recipes in it? You got that around somewhere?"

Earl rubbed his eyes and it took him a few minutes to collect his thoughts, but he rose unsteadily to his feet, shuffled to a kitchen cabinet and pulled out a faded yellow tin box stuffed with recipes on little cards. "You taking up cooking? Must be trying to impress a girl, huh?"

'Uhhhh no. Just looking for that recipe from Uncle Mo she had." Wade fanned through the cards. It brought back a pain of nostalgia. He hadn't looked through these in years. His mom's chocolate peanut butter cake recipe was still in there. Another card was titled at the top "My boys favorite casserole."

He swallowed hard and shoved that one back into the box as a familiar streak of guilt ran through him. She'd made this place a home once. It hadn't always been such a run down shack. He should be taking better care of it. But between working every possible shift at the bar and the maintenance work Lavon paid him to do, Earl was pretty low on his priority list the last couple years. Keep him off the roof, keep him fed, keep him out of traffic. That was enough work as it was.

"You making gumbo?" Earl asked now, his voice a little hopeful. "Maybe you could bring me some. "

"Just helping out a friend," he said shortly. "I'll have Frank bring you out some groceries if you need food."

"I got enough," Earl waved him off. "Haven't seen you around much lately."

"Been busy," Wade said, scanning the stack. "Lavon's got me working on remodeling the carriage house for Zoe Hart."

"Ahhh, the new doctor. Harley's daughter."

"Yeah," Wade looked up briefly, his face void of expression. "I'm surprised you even remember that."

"Harley was a good man. Real good to you. Made sure you didn't go down the same road as me, that's for sure." Earl's voice got solemn. "He came out here to see me a bunch. When you got….busy."

"Busy," Wade echoed. He held his tongue, thinking of his 12-year-old self picking up bottles and sweeping floors at the Rammer Jammer to 'work off' Earl's bar tab.

"Yeah, well. Someone had to pay for your bad habits."

"She pretty?"

"I guess." He shrugged, like it was no big deal, even though his mind automatically went to Zoe's legs in those damn shorts, and the way her hair swung behind her when she stomped off. "She's a pain in the ass. Keeps blowing out the electricity at my place," he scowled.

Earl got that goofy half ass grin on his face. "You like her."

"You're drunk."

"I'm drunk but I'm not dumb. You bring her around sometime, I'd like to meet her."

"Yeah that's not gonna happen," Wade said without hesitation. He held up the recipe card he'd unearthed from the pile. "I gotta run. Take a shower and eat a decent meal. You look like shit."

Earl watched as Wade slammed out the backdoor just as abruptly as he had come in. Always putting his foot in his mouth with that boy of his. He never seemed to be able to say the right thing. Wade was a good son. He'd always been a good son. Certainly hadn't taken off like Jesse had. He just could never seem to find the right words to tell him that.

Earl chuckled to himself as he laid back down on the couch and closed his eyes, humming the words to Frank Sinatra's "Moon River" softly. He forgot a lot of things, being a drunk and all, but he'd never forget what Harley Wilkes had told him.

 _I have a daughter, Earl. You just wait. She's going to come here to Bluebell some day and that boy of yours won't know what hit him….._

.

###################

"Gooooood morning," Zoe breezed into the kitchen looking cheerier than she had in days, dressed up like the cover of a fashion magazine as usual, and ready for work. "What a great day to be alive."

"Who put a quarter in you?" Wade asked as he poured coffee in a travel mug and screwed on the top.

"Just happy, I guess," she slid onto a stool as Lavon flipped some pancakes onto a plate and handed it to her. "Probably the happiest I've been since I got here."

"Thought you'd be kinda bummed you didn't win gumbo queen of Alabama." Wade remarked as he leaned against the back counter and took a sip of his coffee. The contest had taken place yesterday afternoon, and like he did every year, Brick Breeland had once again claimed the trophy. But the look on Zoey's face when Dash Dewitt put that medal around her neck was priceless.

"Kinda funny I got second place though," she said, tilting her head at both Wade and Lavon, and raising her eyebrows. "Considering Burt Reynolds ate my gumbo for breakfast."

"Don't look at me," Lavon held up his hands in defense. "Lavon Hayes is an honorable mayor who does not cheat for his friends. In fact, I'm going to pretend I didn't even hear any of this."

"Oh Lavon, I know it wasn't you," Zoe said with a contented sigh, taking another bite of her pancakes.

Lavon raised his eyebrows. "Uhhhh…okay. Clue us in."

"I think George made my gumbo," she confided.

Wade's easy-going grin faded a little. Maybe Zoe didn't see it, but Lavon did.

If George Tucker had actually made that gumbo, Lavon Hayes would eat his hat.

"Now, Z, I wouldn't be saying that too loud," Lavon said uneasily. "Cuz you know technically I'm the mayor and I'd have to disqualify you. Not to mention, you know how fast rumors get around, and that's not something Lemon would be liking too much."

"I think George Tucker has a lot better things to do with his time than help you cheat at a gumbo making contest," Wade said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Like plan a wedding? In case you forgot that part."

Zoe stuck her chin out. "it's a nice thing to do for a _friend_. Some people actually do nice things for a friend without requiring sex as a payment in return, Wade."

"Well now, what would be the fun in that?" He said with a smirk.

"You could learn a lot from George," Zoe added as she finished off her pancakes.

"Yeah I bet," Wade shook his head in disgust, gathered up his crap, and slammed out the door.

"What's his problem anyway?" Zoe asked, stuffing her mouth with more pancakes. "Sheesh, what did I ever do to make him President of the Bluebell hates Zoe fanclub? He always has to go and rain on my parade."

Lavon sighed and stood up. "I need to get to a meeting. And Wade doesn't hate you, Z. That's the problem. That is a very _large_ part of the problem. He's a good guy. You two stop going at each other's throats for a minute, you might figure that out."

##########################################

Zoe sat on the front porch of the carriage house with a bottle of wine and a hardcover novel, but she wasn't really reading it, and she hadn't even touched the wine for once.

She bit her lip, impatiently watching the gatehouse across the pond. She could see Wade moving around in there, doing…whatever Wade-like things it was he did.

 _Probably playing stupid video games. Or getting ready for an orgy._

How was she supposed to know it was _him_ of all people who had made her gumbo for the contest? It hadn't even occurred to her until Lavon had set that red pot down in front of her this morning. The red pot that had sat among the others in the contest. The red pot from _Lavon's_ kitchen. Only then had she realized that it was Wade.

 _You share a kitchen. And a fuse box_ , Lavon had said this morning in no uncertain terms. _And neither of you is going anywhere. Work out your crap. And apologize._

She knew one way to get him to come over here. She could turn on the bug zapper and blow the fuse, and he'd be over within five minutes to give her a lecture about plugging in her 'girl' stuff.

But nope, the lights went off in his place, and he walked out on the porch.

 _Finally._ Zoe stood up.

"Hey," she called tentatively. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Got somewhere to be," Wade didn't even look up in her direction, just started grabbing fishing gear off the porch.

Lavon's words came back to her. _I know he acts like a hard-ass, but it's just how he is._

"Going fishing?" she tried again.

"What do you think."

 _Fishing poles. Right. Duh. Really smooth._

"You fish at night?"

"Yup. That's when the catfish and the bass bite."

"Ew," she made a face.

Wade's laughter rang out across the water. "You wanna go? Or too afraid to get your hands dirty?"

"Ummmm…." Her voice trailed off.

"Suit yourself," he shrugged and walked over to the truck, ready and waiting with a boat already hooked up and dropped his poles in the back.

"But I'm in my pajamas," she called, looking down at the skimpy tank top and yoga pants she was sporting.

"I don't think the fish are gonna care."

Zoe bit her lip, then slowly closed her book and rose to her feet. "Okay."

The skepticism on Wade's face showed as she walked around the pond to where he leaned against the truck.

"Have you ever been fishing?"

"No," she said determined. "But Lavon says I should take more chances. And mix it in with the locals. You're a local. I'm….mixing. Sort of."

"Holding a fishing pole isn't exactly the biggest risk in the world."

No, she thought, but being alone in a boat at midnight with the biggest womanizer in all of southern Alabama probably was. She held her tongue at the thought of that.

"If I'm going to be a… Bluebellian…I guess I better learn, right?"

"I guess. But if you fall in the river, I'm not jumping in after you."

"What are you afraid of, man eating fish?" She said sarcastically.

"Nope. Gators." He climbed into the truck.

She gulped and looked at the boat a second longer before hesitantly yanking open the door.

"You can't scare me off, Wade Kinsella. Now let's get this…fishing show on the…river," she declared.

Wade just shook his head and started up the truck.

30 minutes later Zoe found herself sitting on the river. In a boat. Nervously scanning the top of the water for beady yellow eyes.

 _This is ridiculous,_ she scolded herself silently, trying to calm herself. _He wouldn't let me get eaten._

She snuck a peak at Wade, who definitely looked annoyed that his nice peaceful fishing trip had been female hijacked. _Well…maybe he would._

"Nice boat," she commented lamely. Hey, conversation had to start somewhere, right?

"Thanks, I guess. A friend…left it to me. It's kinda special."

He should tell her, Wade thought. But something about it felt kinda right to keep it to himself.

There was a breeze on her face as they slowly drifted downstream via the trolling motor attached to the back and a floodlight on the front leading the way. Zoe wished she would have brought a sweater, and she shivered a little in the night air. It was nice though, after the unforgiving heat of the day.

"Here," Wade unearthed a red hoodie and tossed it in her direction.

She held it up by one hand and wrinkled her nose. "Do I want to know where this has been?"

"I'm a guy. What do you think?"

Zoe put it on anyway, and dared to bury her face in the collar. It smelled like campfire and cologne and spilled beer. Something about the combination made her smile. So Wade.

She talked, rambled really, while he went about dropping the anchor and climbing around her to set up the gear. But she couldn't seem to get back around to asking him what she really wanted to know.

"You nervous or somethin?"

"About what?" she jerked her head up.

"You tell me." Wade settled on the bench next to her and grabbed up a fishing pole.

She gagged as she watched him pull a massively long nightcrawler out of the bait container and stab it with a hook. "I'm not touching those."

"You're not going to catch anything with an empty hook," he said, amused.

"Waaaaade….." she whined.

With sigh, he baited her hook and handed her the pole, and then grabbed up another one.

Zoe examined it carefully. Well damn. I mean this couldn't be that hard. Just press…something… and throw it, right? She'd seen fishing on tv. Once.

Exasperated, Wade took the pole from her again. "Press the button. Hold it while you cast. Then reel it in a little." He tossed out her line, and handed it back to her.

"Now what?"

"We wait for them to bite. Quietly," he emphasized as he sat down as far as possible from her as he could get and still be in the boat.

"Um…okay," Zoe eyed him up. He was still mad about this morning. Maybe a little less mad, but yup definitely still mad. She glanced ruefully down at the book and the bottle of wine she'd dropped by her feet, guessing he'd not be happy if she confessed she hadn't _actually_ expected to have to fish.

She literally went 47 seconds without talking. Wade knew because he timed her in his head.

"So how about those Belles, huh? Pretty sure Lemon Breeland wants my head on a platter in town square right about now."

Wade sighed. "You just can't stop, can you?"

"Stop what?"

" _Talking."_

Suddenly the pole in Zoe's hands jerked hard, and she jumped half a mile and almost dropped it overboard. She gave a high pitched scream.

"Dammit." Wade muttered, scrambling over all the other crap in the boat and nearly ending up in the river in the process. "Don't let go!"

Easier said than done.

He wrapped his arms around Zoe from behind and put his hands above hers on the rod. "crank the reel!"

 _Oh boy,_ she thought. _Oh no. Too close. Too. close._ He was yelling at her to reel in this fish and all she could concentrate on was the fact that he was plastered against her hips in a way that was getting her way more hot and bothered than it should have. I mean it was _Wade_ , for gods sake.

By the time a floppy black thing with long whiskers landed in the bottom of the boat a few minutes later with the help of a net, gasping for air, Zoe's arms ached so bad she thought they would fall off, but she was damn proud of herself for reeling in well…whatever it was.

"Yeah, baby!" Wade whooped. "That's a big one."

"Oh my god, what _is that_?" Zoe said, aghast. "Is it supposed to look like that? Are we fishing in polluted waters?"

He gave her a skeptical look. "It's a _catfish_."

"Aww, it's kinda cute I guess." Zoe watched it flailing around, slowly flopping less and less. "I feel bad for him. His life just snuffed out because he bit the wrong hook…."

"Yeah well, that's nature." Wade took the fish off the line, still with life left in it, and made a move to throw it in the cooler.

"Can't we…put him back?" She asked tentatively.

He looked at her increduously. "I know you're new at this, but that's not how fishing works."

"Pleeeeease," she weedled. "I'll be extra extra nice to you for the next three days if you throw it back. I won't even plug my hair dryer in, I swear," she crossed her fingers over her heart in an x.

Wade rolled his eyes and reluctantly dropped the fish back over the side of the boat into the water. "You know, that coulda been my dinner tomorrow."

Zoe sighed with relief.

"Never again," he muttered. "Never. Again."

"You're the best," Zoe said happily, leaning over to punch him playfully on the shoulder. "Thanks, Wade. This is so much fun! I can't believe I'm _actually fishing_. I feel like such a local."

Wade held his tongue on that one, which for him was _really_ hard. Actually fishing. That was a stretch.

They sat on the river a little while longer, with not much luck.

Zoe finally fell asleep in the bottom of the boat with her head on a pile of life jackets and when she woke up, the sky was lighter around them, but the sun not quite up yet. It took her a second to remember where she was. There was a fine mist of fog on top of the river. She rubbed her eyes and stretched her toes.

Wade was sitting across from her in the boat, slumped over and cross legged with his feet up on the edge, his forehead furrowed and her battered hardcover copy of _The Notebook_ in his hands.

She snickered. "Imagine that. You know how to read?"

"It's not as good as the "articles" in Playboy, but it'll do," he said, uprighting himself.

"It's romantic. You want to know how it ends? It's so sad…."

"It's chic lit," he said wryly. "So I can guess. Tansy used to check that kind of crap out from the library all the time."

"Whose Tansy?"

He completely ignored that question and tossed the book at her, then went to work pulling up the anchor.

"It doesn't make any sense anyway. All that romance and crap gives me hives."

"I bet telling all the girls that really impresses them," she said dryly.

"Good thing I'm not trying to impress anyone."

"Definitely a good thing. If you were you'd get an F for sure," she joked lightly.

It was a quiet ride back to the plantation, but there was something peaceful about it. They spent so much time bickering and throwing jabs at each other otherwise, it was just….nice. Zoe leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes, and once in awhile he snuck a peak over at her. She looked tired, but content.

Wade stopped the truck in front of the carriage house and waited for her to climb out. The sun was coming up now, but his ass was dead tired. It had been a hell of a couple days.

"Well, this was quite the adventure," she said as she gathered up her stuff and pushed open the passenger door.

He stopped her with a hand on her arm, and she looked up at him in surprise.

"Can I ask you something?" He said hesitantly.

"Ummm…sure." _Here we go_ , Zoe thought. _Same old Wade. He's going to ruin the moment by cracking some dumb sex joke or trying to get in my pants._

"Was it the 2nd place that made you happy, or that you thought George Tucker did it?" He dragged out each word as if it was painful.

She stared at him, completely caught off-guard.

"Nevermind," he muttered, his hands flexing on the steering wheel.

Zoe took a deep breath "It was the fact that someone here, someone in Bluebell, went out of their way to do it for me," she said quietly. "Kinda made me feel… like someone cares. I guess it doesn't really matter who it was. It was the first time that anyone has made me feel like I could belong here. It's kinda finally starting to feel like home."

Their eyes met across the console, and for a second he felt that _thing_ between them again, like a weird energy he didn't quite know what to do with. An understanding.

He more than anyone knew what it was like to feel like you were always on the outside.

"You belong here," Wade said quietly. "Don't doubt that. And don't let Lemon or Brick or anyone else tell you otherwise."

Zoe leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Thanks for teaching me how to fish. I am so ready for bed, though. Thank god Brick is on call today."

He looked surprised, and a cheeky smile worked itself up the edges of his mouth. "You want me to come and tuck you in?"

Zoe laughed out loud. _And there he is. Typical Wade_. "You wish. See you around, Wade."

"See ya around, Doc."

She stood on the front steps of the carriage house, still wearing his red sweatshirt and watched as he pulled away, the boat bumping along behind the truck on the trailer. And she noticed what she hadn't the night before in the darkness.

H. Wilkes was painted across the hull in black letters.

Wade had taken her out in her father's boat, and never said a word about it.

It meant more to her than she could even find the words to describe.

Stunned, she tried to absorb this as she walked into the carriage house and closed the door behind her. She sank down on her bed and picked up the framed picture of Harley.

"I don't know what you're up to up there," she whispered. "But Thanks. Dad."


End file.
